


Literary no one asked for this

by Flying_Potatismos



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Consensual Possession, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possession, gods pls stop me why did i write this, i don't know if this is actually classified as masturbation or not but lets say it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26771362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flying_Potatismos/pseuds/Flying_Potatismos
Summary: Newly awoken from his not-so-eternal slumber, Vlodimir can't help but to long for something carnal. But time is short and there is no reason to wait till the end of the night when he can have something not half-bad right now.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Witold von Everec | Vlodimir von Everec
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Literary no one asked for this

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Heart of Stone expansion & the “Dead man’s party”-quest. (I continue to be amazed by how great this game is)
> 
> Is this the exact same scenario as the two other (english) Vlodimir/Geralt fics on this site? Yes. Is this one superior somehow? No, absolutely not, this is trash. But as they say, there's no such thing as too much of a good thing. The "good thing" in this scenario is Vlodimir just wanting to have a goddamn wank.

Shani had yet to show up. It seemed likely to be a while until she would, so Geralt made himself comfortable underneath the tree by the side of the road. It provided decent shade and he hoped the ghost wouldn’t be too much of an annoyance. Vlodimir’s translucent form sat down beside him.

“This is very romantic,” he teased. Geralt groaned and told him to fuck off. Vlodimir did not, nor did he shut up. 

“It’s nice to be out stretching one’s legs after so long in a crypt! Say, Geralt, tonight is about me, correct?”

“Apart from the newlyweds, yes.” Geralt shut his eyes and laid his arm over his face. The ghost rubbed his hands together, obviously scheming. 

“Well, I do have one wish before that beautiful lass gets here.”

Geralt sighed, whatever it was the ghost wanted it was sure to make him regret agreeing to this whole ordeal.

“You see, I haven’t had a good wank in  _ ages _ . Surely I’ll be having some sweet wench in a few hours, but I don’t think I can stand to wait that long!” Vlodimir licked his lips, looking over at Geralt.

“Tell me you aren’t suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.” Geralt sat up, looking at the ghost with a pained expression on his face.

“C’mon, Geralt, help a fellow man out?” Vlodimir grinned, “Besides, I’m sure you’d enjoy it too, you look like you could use it! You’re stiff as a bloody fence post!”

Giving Vlodimir what he wanted wouldn’t be all too difficult, and he was probably right about Geralt being able to enjoy it too. But the idea of being used and having no control over his own body, being at the full mercy of the other man, a man he did not know, nonetheless, didn’t sit right with him. Under different circumstances Geralt might have found it intriguing. Yet, if Vlodimir got what he wanted now he might not press Shani, or any other poor woman, for it.

“Fine. Lead the way.” Geralt stood up and within the wink of an eye Vlodimir had taken possession of him. 

“Now, now, where might I- we get some privacy?” Vlodimir looked around. Southwards there were only fields, the road to the west and a lake to the east. “Into the forest?” 

Geralt agreed, all though the words were not spoken aloud. He wasn’t sure if Vlodimir could hear him. They ventured north, walking along the outside of the village wall. 

“Aha!” Vlodimir called out in Geralt’s voice as they came across a fisherman’s cabin.

“You’re not breaking into someone’s home to have a wank!” Geralt protested.

“Oh, what’s it harm? Everyone’s at the wedding already!” Vlodimir sighed as he threw his arms up in an exasperated gesture. Geralt was glad to have been heard. 

“Take us across the river, there’s probably a good spot up that hill,” he instructed. Vlodimir, to Geralt’s surprise, did as he was told. He waded across the river, flooding Geralt’s boots and drenching the bottoms of his trousers. The fact that Geralt had been right about the hill made it a little more bearable. Warm sun shined through the trees yet the foliage provided a nice shield against the light. The roof of the fisherman’s cabin was visible over the edge of the hill. Vlodimir opted to stand without the protection of the trees, moaning as he tilted his head skywards to bask in the warmth, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I hope you don’t burn easily, witcher, because I can’t get enough of the sun today,” he mumbled as he began to undo the buckles on Geralt’s armour. Geralt took a moment to listen to their surroundings. There were birds, the wind softly creeping through grass, a few deer not too far away, but nothing to be alarmed about. Everything was perfectly good, except maybe the fact that he was currently possessed by a horny ruffian.

Vlodimir ridded him of the complete set of armour as well as the clothes underneath and laid down on the forest bed. He seemed to hesitate before he touched Geralt’s body. Geralt wasn’t sure if he felt what his mind felt or what his body felt, as a familiar, although almost forgotten, excitement rose within him. The thrill of a new partner, something he hadn’t had in several decades - fuck he was getting old - and the wholly new way to enjoy himself added up to his current state of mind. He could feel his hand move to trace a scare on his stomach, yet had no control of its motion.

“How do you usually like it?” Vlodimir murmured.

Geralt was caught off guard by the question, having expected Vlodimir to have no interest in acknowledging that he was sharing the body he was currently working to pleasure. The hand at Geralt’s stomach slipped down to rest on his thigh, coming close to his stiffening cock. 

“C’mon witcher, what do you enjoy picturing when you have a wank?” The question sounded even cruder as Vlodimir spoke with Geralt’s voice.

“Depends,” Geralt moaned, trying his damned best to control his own body so he could at least take himself in hand. Fuck, he was more desperate then the man who had begged for this not even a quarter of an hour ago. 

“Tell me, I need to get into character!” Vlodimir grinned as he continued to tease his hand along Geralt’s thigh, agonizingly close to where Geralt wanted it, “how can I pretend to be Geralt of Rivia if I don’t know what goes on in his head?”

Geralt didn’t dignify his probing with an answer, at least not one beyond a displeased grunt. With a sigh, Vlodimir gave up. He let his mouth hang open, a long moan escaping between his lips as he palmed at his balls, followed by a low chuckle. Looking down at Geralt's body, he found his cock fully erect and standing practically upright.

“You’re a well endowed man, witcher, I'm impressed! We’ll be popular with the wenches," he teased as he wrapped his hand around the shaft. Both his hand and his cock were dry, the initial touch uncomfortable. 

"There's oil in my trousers," Geralt muttered, deciding not to tease the ghost who had apparently forgotten how to rub one out. He was hushed as Vlodimir reached into the pile of clothes and extracted a vial.

"This it?" he asked and upon confirmation he continued, "you must really be looking forward to this night. Imagining it, perhaps?" Geralt muttered, not wanting to disclose that he had just forgotten to put the oil back in his saddlebags after the night spent at the Chameleon a few days ago. That was information a ghost didn't need.

Vlodimir uncorked the vial and poured about half of its contents over the tip of Geralt's cock before tossing it aside. He drew a quick breath at the feeling of cold liquid against his skin. The oil eased his strokes and he couldn't help but to buck up into his fist just once. It was absurd really, the witcher's body was so different from his original one it was hard to imagine it was his, even just for the evening.

Long ago, when he was still second-in-command of the Redanian Free Company, he'd enjoyed himself plenty. Not just with women either. Despite its virtual insignificance - they were free to eat, sleep, brawl and fuck as they wished, after all - he disliked admitting that he had laid with men. Geralt’s voice in his head, moaning and telling him what to do reminded him somewhat of the nights his brother would keep all female company out of his reach. It became a habit of his and some of the other men to seek each other out on those nights. Zorin, with his stark, callused hands and strong thighs, became somewhat of a regular in Vlodimir’s bed. At some point, he had gotten used to making due with the leftovers.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Vlodimir began to stroke Geralt's cock once again. He braced the back of his head against the ground, bucking into his hand and letting out a loud moan. He wondered for a second what the witcher might look like in this moment.

“Hurry up,” Geralt urged. He wasn’t fully ready to confess that he was enjoying being at Vlodimir’s mercy. The hand around his cock was working far too slowly for his liking. His free hand came up to his chest, a thumb brushing over his nipple and the rest of his fingers digging into the flesh of his pectoral. He groaned, hearing the noise out of his own mouth as the hand on his cock sped up. His eyes fluttered open. A few clouds had gathered in the sky, shutting out most of the sun’s light. Suspended in the air in front of him was the translucent shape of the ghost which had, just seconds ago, inhabited his body. Geralt turned his flushed face away, taking his hand off his cock. 

“A pretty sight indeed,” Vlodimir smiled, in his own voice. His eyes darted across Geralt’s frame, taking in every bit of him. He reached out to touch him but, to his dismay, found that his hands went right through the witcher’s body. A breathless sigh escaped him. 

“You would have been the sweetest thing I've ever fucked, witcher,” he lamented.

“Just get back inside me.” 

“Gladly!” Vlodimir leaned forward, as if to join lips with him, and maybe that was his intention, but nonetheless he entered Geralt’s body, regaining control of him. He moaned upon laying his hands on Geralt once again, ecstatic at the feeling of solid flesh beneath his fingers. Turning his head to look at the pile of clothes, Vlodimir twisted Geralt’s lips into a grin.

“Maybe it isn’t impossible after all,” he mused as he reached for the vial of oil he had previously discarded so carelessly. He coated his fingers in it and spread his legs. Continuing to stroke Geralt’s shaft, the newly greased digits came to rest below his sack, teasing at his rim. Geralt groaned, yet did not object. Vlodimir pushed the tip of his finger inside, feeling the muscle tighten momentarily before thrusting forward. Geralt whined, wanting to pull away and push back against his own hand all at once. Did Vlodimir feel this too? Sure seemed like he didn’t. Keeping his composure, he was entertained by Geralt’s inability to do the same.

“Do you like this, Geralt? Tell me how much you like it.” Vlodimir mumbled in Geralt’s deep voice as he teased a second finger at his hole. He wasn’t mocking him, maybe because he had no desire to be, maybe because he would have been unable to suppress the falter in his voice if he had spoken any louder. Geralt allowed himself to moan without hindrance, hearing Vlodimir chuckle as he forced a second finger inside of him. 

“Ah, ploughin’ whoreson, you’re tight!” Vlodimir called out. Geralt kindly suggested he should add some more oil, but upon searching for it they found the vial had disappeared somewhere in the grass. Vlodimir took his hand off Geralt’s cock and brought it to his lips, sucking two fingers into his mouth as he continued to finger him in short, gentle thrusts. Geralt’s fingers were slick with oil and tasted like his cum. He found his mouth watered at the taste. Whether this was his own or Vlodimir’s fault he didn’t dare wonder.

Vlodimir licked his fingers clean and pulled his other hand from Geralt’s ass. Suddenly empty Geralt had to resist begging Vlodimir to put them back inside of him. Vlodimir sat up on his elbow and spat in his hand, immediately returning it to Geralt’s hole. He fit two fingers back inside him, this time with further ease. Geralt groaned at the stretch of his ass, wanting to push back on his fingers. Vlodimir was coming more and more undone, yet he did his best to keep it hidden, working hard to still his breathing and bracing his feet against the ground to not thrust back on his fingers. He curved his digits, finding a bundle of nerves that made him throw his head back and bite down on his lip to not cry out loud. Geralt’s voice begged for more. 

“Fuck… that’s what you want, huh?” Vlodimir moaned. He couldn’t help but to imagine himself - still alive and kicking - bending the witcher over and having him till he came apart. Indeed, Geralt was a sweet fucking thing. Picturing him on his hands and knees, face flushed and lips dark red and wet, his whole body begging to be fucked, Vlodimir was unable to hold back a groan. He drew a sharp breath, raising his ass off the ground to push back on his fingers as he continued his fantasy. He envisioned laying his hands around Geralt’s waist and driving his cock deep inside him, deeper than he could ever get his fingers, if only to watch the witcher cry and beg. 

Geralt whimpered and urged him to wrap his free hand around his cock. Vlodimir gave a breathy chuckle, opening his eyes to watch Geralt’s cock bob as he rocked back on his fingers. It made a wet slapping sound as it hit his stomach. The tip was shining with oil and precum, gloriously pink and neglected for long enough that he would probably come if he spent another moment just looking at it. Vlodimir tipped his head back, listening carefully to Geralt’s voice in his mind. 

“Fuck- more, more please!” Geralt wished he had something to hold on to, to keep himself grounded as he was rapidly pushed towards orgasm. 

“You’re gonna come on my fingers or not at all, witcher,” Vlodimir moaned as his arm gave out under him and he fell back on the ground, grasping at a tussock of grass. Heat pooled in his abdomen and he felt his control of himself slip away. The witcher’s body could take so much more than his own and he reveled in the inevitable climax. Furious waves of pleasure crashed over him and he drew gasps for air each time he surfaced. Geralt’s voice became one with his own as he spilled across his stomach. He stretched his legs and pulled out, taking a few deep breaths as he gripped his cock. A sigh escaped between gritted teeth as the last spurt of cum dribbled down his knuckles. 

Vlodimir wiped his hand off on the ground and laid back with a satisfied hum. He cracked one eye open and had a quick look at Geralt’s torso, finding it downright filthy. Huffing a laugh as he heard Geralt groan at the sight, Vlodimir abandoned his body. 

“Get up, witcher! You can't look like this at the party,” he grinned, “I have a feeling this evening will be even better than I presumed.”


End file.
